A Face of Many Names

My name is not Lili.
My name is not Lilah.
My name doesn't even sound as "cool".


My name is my disguise.
My name is my escape.
My name is my shield.
My name is my strength.
My name is my lie.


Growing up, I have disposed of as many names as I can probably count. Imaginary friends. Imaginary names. Imaginary life. I don't remember when it began. But I do remember why.


It satisfied me. Having authority over naming things regardless of their existence made me feel real power. I feel creative. I feel special. I feel special over something... anything.


I felt different... unique.


It's an open field.
Wide.
Empty.
It's my open field.


I can do whatever I want with it. Create as many fictional events as possible. Name as many characters. It's that emptiness. The starting over again. Re-cleansing. Coming clean. No regrets. Nothing yet. It's another beginning.


This time, I'll do so much better. This time, I'll be someone better. This time, things will be better.


If not -


I start over.
I create another.
Another name.
Another open field.
Another beginning.
Another chance.


Another disguise.
Another escape.
Another shield.
Another strength.
Another lie.


A lie told by a face of many names.
A lie I am telling you now.